


Vibes

by futureboy (PokeRowan)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Date Rape, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Fake AH Crew, M/M, mentions of vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 04:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11246802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PokeRowan/pseuds/futureboy
Summary: Ryan can look after himself. Of course he can. It's just nice to have a little help from the Crew sometimes.[Prompted on tumblr]





	Vibes

**Author's Note:**

> [RPF disclaimer: Written according to guidelines set by RT employees (to the best of my knowledge). This is a fictional series of events using characters inspired by real people.]
> 
> “ “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.” for fahc jeremwood please? -Anonymous ”  
> Warning for drugging.

It’s one of those rare celebrations where they’re commemorating total stealth. Not only did the Fake AH Crew pull of the heist perfectly – it’d gone off without a fucking _hitch_ – but not a soul in Los Santos had even noticed they’d done it. Jeremy can’t think of anything better than drinking to this, except maybe Ryan accompanying them to the bar they’re in.

Yeah, he looks great in here. Jeremy’s seen him before in this low, artificial light, but not often enough. Coupled with his tipsiness and their group euphoria… Well.

He looked even better than usual. Through Jeremy’s eyes. _Man_.

“This is one of the best nights of my entire life,” he says to Gavin, and it’s true. Nothing can spoil it. Not even the fact that he’s at a table with the Lads, and Geoff and Jack are off somewhere doing god-knows-what with bourbon and jubilance, and Ryan’s up against the bar by himself taking in the scene with a coke and a frown.

“I’ll fuckin’ raise a glass to that,” Michael smirks, and downs his drink.

“Let’s get sloshed, boys,” crows Gavin. He already sounds like he’s getting there. It doesn’t help that he’s sitting on a chair entirely the wrong way, so that his legs are straddling the back. What a child.

Someone he doesn’t know creeps into the space between Ryan’s elbow and the barstool over from them, and tries to order two drinks.

Ryan stops him, and fucking _smiles_ ; they strike up conversation.

“Yeah,” says Jeremy, feeling his face fall slightly, “yeah, let’s. We got loads to be happy about, I can’t believe we pulled it all off.”

His brain goes into hard, forced denial – _come, on, Dooley, Ryan can have a good time too. It’s not like he can’t take care of himself, if he’s not up for anything. He’s the Vagabond, for fuck’s sake._

…Ryan looks up for something.

 _Argh_. Jeremy squints and examines the guy he’s speaking with; he’s tall, he’s skinny, he’s got hair so blond it’s like someone spun straw into gold, and he’s getting Ryan to _lean into him_ and _smile_ and _look up through those absurdly long eyelashes_ and--

“You alright, Lil J?”

“Yeah,” says Jeremy, forcing himself to return to reality. “Yeah, ‘course I am.”

“Woah,” says Gav, draping himself over the back of his reversed chair, “who’s that bloke V’s talking to?”

“No clue.”

“It’s been a while since I saw him turn on _that_ charm. Forgot he still had it, actually. Christ.”

Gavin’s fixated on tall, slim, and gilded. Michael’s more focused on his co-worker’s reaction. “Wassup, Jeremy?” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Are you getting the same vibes I am?”

Jeremy doesn’t know if he means vibes like _bad news_ , or vibes like _Jeremy’s definitely jealous_ , so he mumbles, “I hope not,” and takes another swig of his beer.

“Hey, where’d Jack and Geoff go? They’ve been away for ages, I hope they’re not starting a fight or sommat.”

“I doubt it,” Michael says. “I think they stole a super pricey bottle of whiskey and went to drink it in the car.”

Jeremy only vaguely registers the words, because something’s really, _really_ fucking wrong, and he can’t tell what it is. Not knowing why he’s suddenly got non-jealously stabs in his chest – that’s the kind of thing that makes him jumpy and adrenal. His fists start clenching and relaxing, like they’re warming up for a big event of their own accord.

“I think,” he says, and then doesn’t think at all, because Ryan’s smile is gone and he’s got a death grip on the edge of the bar.

“Jeremy?”

“I’ll be right back,” he says, standing up with a screech of chair legs and a slammed bottle on the table. Gavin yelps as the beer foams over, but he’s already walking away.

“Hey,” he murmurs, putting a hand behind Ryan’s elbow, “everything okay here?”

Tall and Slim flashes a smile. “He’s with me, it’s alright,” he beams, and Jeremy has to restrain himself from punching that stupid, smug face in.

“That’s funny,” says a voice coming from over the man’s shoulder, and oh, _god_ , he’s never been more thankful to hear Geoff give a shit in all his life. “I was under the impression that he was with _us_.”

“We hit it off, he’s just had a bit too much to drink,” says the man, who’s looking visibly more uncomfortable by the second.

Jeremy feels Ryan’s bicep twitch with tension, and the next thing he knows, Tall and Slim sprawls across the floor with a blooming black eye. Michael and Gavin jump to their feet in the corner of his eye.

“Jesus, Ryan,” he murmurs, and tries to hide his satisfaction.

Ryan grabs at Jeremy’s arm wildly. His eyelashes are flickering with the effort of keeping awake. “I can take… take care of _myself_ ,” he says, and Jeremy supports him properly, slides a hand around his waist to keep him upright, whispers _I know, pal, I know--_

“Let that be a fuckin’ lesson, you fuckin’ worthless scum,” Geoff says, disgustedly poking the crumpled mess of a man with the toe of a shoe. “Don’t be an asshole. _Asshole_.”

“Christ, Geoff. What the fuck is goin’ on?”

“We’re going home. Now,” Geoff scowls. “Give Dollface a holler, Gavin, I’ve got a real shitbag for her…”

“You got it,” Gavin smirks. Jeremy’s comforted by the fact that Gavin’s glee is way more obvious than his is.

Ryan’s leaning into his side now, with the bartender looking on in horror. “Jrhhrhmhy,” he slurs, and _fuck_ , he’s heavier than Jeremy thought he was. Vagabond’s fuckin’ _compact_ , yeesh.

“Hey, you did a great job, pal. Come on. We’re gonna get you home.”

Ryan makes a noise, and tries to move his feet to match Jeremy’s pace. When they bundle into the back seat together, Michael takes the wheel (because evidently Geoff and Jack had a _wonderful_ time with their boozy car session), and promises to drive safely.

“I _know_ that’s a lie. Just drive as safe as you can, or you’re cleaning up V’s chunder,” grumbles Gavin.

There’s no vomit. There’s no road accidents at all, as a matter of fact, which is always a plus. The ride up to the penthouse gets a bit shaky, but luckily Jack’s at hand to help Jeremy steady him. The others peel off – Gavin and Michael say they ‘have to make some calls’. Geoff seems to have pickpocketed Tall and Slim’s cell phone at some point, and scowls when he says he’s going to be delivering it to Matt.

“Want me to make sure he doesn’t die?” he asks Jack, the two of them practically dragging Ryan over to his room.

“You’re the soberest,” she shrugs, “so, sure, that’s a way better idea.”

“You got it, pal.”

“G’night, Lil J. He really owes you one, that coulda been way worse.”

They tumble through the doorway, and immediately Jeremy throws him at the mattress. Ryan’s almost asleep. Go figure. “Only the best soft landings for you, Ry,” he says, and might as well be talking to himself.

There were a couple of things he needed to do before settling in tonight, because the notorious Vagabond choking to death, and on his own puke, no less, isn’t exactly a stylish way to go out.

The first is the big one; the clothes. He doesn’t feel comfortable undressing Ryan in this state, for obvious reasons, so he busts out his first aid training from a million years ago. Loosen restrictive items. The top button gets popped on his button down; as much as it freaks him out to do it, too, the belt’s gotta go. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chants to himself, “it’s not how I imagined, but maybe one day, huh? Ryan? You with me?”

Ryan makes an _mmm_ sound, and remains reclined on top of his bedsheets.

Okay.

That’s still good.

Jeremy opens one of the huge windows, and fills a glass of water, and then kind of doesn’t know what to do with himself, because he feels obligated to keep watch and doesn’t know where to put himself.

So he perches on the edge of the bed.

He notices Ryan’s hair has gone all damp and sweaty. He’d been wearing it down in the bar; now it just looked sad and lank. Especially with that twitchy frown on his face.

“Hey, Ry... You still awake? Can you sit up?”

Miraculously, Ryan flails a hand towards him. When he grabs it and pulls, helping him to sit up, the taller man overbalances somewhat and falls into Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Hey, easy does it. We don’t wanna aggravate you, there’s a good chance you’re gonna hurl…” Which is an even better excuse, if he ever heard one, to take one of the bands from Ryan’s nightstand, and coax his hair into a loose ponytail. Wouldn’t want those black locks getting streaked with gross stuff. Ew.

“Jere?”

“Yeah, Ry?”

It’s slurred, and it’s being mumbled into his shoulder, but…

“...Thanks.”

“Hey. You’re welcome. You’re always welcome,” Jeremy says softly. He feels guilty, yet thankful, that Ryan won’t remember if he runs his hands through his hair a couple extra times.

And when he finally ties the ponytail, and finally lays Ryan down, and finally hears Gavin cackling from the next room over – presumably because Dollface is about to deal out some well-deserved vengeance –

Well, he finally lies down, too.

Because how else is he supposed to check if Ryan’s breathing is consistent?

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://futureboy-ao3.tumblr.com)!


End file.
